


Apples and Trees

by Telaryn



Category: Hogan's Heroes, Leverage
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Headcanon, Rare Fandoms, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:19:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate is unexpectedly called to England to explain his intentions to Sophie's biological grandfather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apples and Trees

  
The apartment was in a well-maintained building in the East End of London. _Fourth floor,_ Nate remembered, glancing up at the structure. He was tempted to pay the cab driver enough to convince him to wait, but ultimately decided that once he’d crossed an ocean it was a little late to worry about meeting a total stranger at an undisclosed location.

 _And why exactly are you doing this again?_ he asked himself as he took the obviously retrofit elevator to the building’s fourth floor. The message he’d received, asking him to drop everything and fly to London, had been just cryptic enough to guarantee he’d come, without going so far that he would ignore the request to “come alone”. _And hadn’t that been a fun conversation?_ Proving that his learning curve wasn’t completely horizontal, Nate had told his team everything he could about where he was going and when he’d planned on being back.

He’d even gone so far as to let Hardison run a background check on the man who’d contacted him, and while “Andrew Carter” was founder and CEO of one of the top biochemical engineering firms in the country, he appeared to be one of the good guys. _”Operates almost entirely debt free, cutting edge incentive programs for his employees, literally gives millions to charity every year…”_

They’d all agreed Carter sounded too good to be true, but it was enough for Sophie and Eliot to agree to let him travel on his own.

The problem was that somebody like Carter requesting a meeting with him carried certain expectations in Nate’s mind. And none of those included Carter himself answering the door to apartment #4A.

They definitely didn’t include him wearing a flowered apron over what Nate judged to be a five thousand dollar suit. “Mr. Ford?” Carter asked. When Nate nodded, the old man’s expression lit with a broad smile. “Come in!” He stepped back, gesturing Nate into the apartment.

“Forgive the look,” Carter continued, shouldering past Nate and hurrying into a kitchen so tiny it would have made Eliot weep. “I didn’t realize he’d given his housekeeper the day off for this.”

There was a fairly impressive level of chaos centered on the stove – pots steaming, boiling over, and a tea kettle in the process of building up to a skull splitting squeal. “Arthritis, cancer, God knows what else in his system, and the man still acts like it’s 1950 and he can do whatever the hell he wants!” Moving with a physical assurance that belied his obvious age, Carter grabbed the kettle and immediately filled three mugs resting by the stove. “I understand you’re a coffee man,” he said, glancing at Nate. “Trust me – even if he had the stuff, you wouldn’t want it.”

“Mr. Carter,” Nate began, more confused now than when he’d knocked on the door, “I’m afraid I…”

Carter’s answering smile was once again broad and genuine – almost goofy. “Don’t be afraid, Mr. Ford. And don’t bothering asking me what this is all about. I’m just the middle man. Peter’s the one that wanted to meet with you.” He passed Nate two of the mugs. “He’s in the bedroom at the end of the hall. Give him that, and tell him his lunch will be ready in about ten minutes.”

It was the most pleasant dismissal Nate had ever been handed in his life.

The bedroom was surprisingly light and airy, boasting one of the picture windows that he’d looked up on from the street. Curtains were tied back on either side, letting in enough natural light to make the need for any of the fixtures superfluous. The décor was old-fashioned, showing few upgrades, and those noticeably masculine in nature. _Married once upon a time,_ Nate decided. _Never found anyone to replace her._

Only the hospital bed and monitoring equipment were absolutely state of the art, and completely at odds with the surrounding environment. “Do you prefer Nate or Nathan?” the man in the bed asked once he’d entered. “I don’t fancy calling you Mr. Ford, under the circumstances.”

“Nate’s fine,” Nate said, going to the bedside. The patient accepted his offered mug without comment. “You’re Peter, right? Mr. Carter said to tell you lunch would be ready in ten minutes.”

The old man’s snort of laughter turned into a cough. “ _Mr._ Carter. We don’t stand on ceremony here, Nate, and Andrew himself would tell you the same. Have a seat.”

“I’m still not sure what I’m doing here,” Nate said, although he did as he was told. Something about Peter invited cooperation, and while he was still hopelessly confused by the situation, Nate was reasonably sure now that he wasn’t in any danger.

Peter laughed again. “Of course you’re not. Didn’t even tell Andrew what I wanted to talk to you about.” He took a sip of his tea, made a face, then set it on his bedside table. “He means well, Andrew, but you Americans don’t know the first thing about making a decent cup of tea.”

Something about the way he said it reminded Nate of one of Sophie’s ongoing complaints. “I’ve been told that,” he said, smiling in spite of himself.

He didn’t miss the shrewd narrowing of Peter’s eyes. “I bet you have. My granddaughter is quite the tea snob, isn’t she?”

It was just for a split second, but everything in the room seemed to freeze in place. “Your…granddaughter?” Nate asked, once he’d reminded himself to keep breathing.

Peter nodded. “My granddaughter. Charlotte Newkirk.” He smiled, and now that Nate knew what he was looking at, he could see the hint of mischief in the grin that had always been a hallmark of Sophie’s more genuine smiles. “Or as she prefers to be known these days – Sophie Devereaux.”  
**************  
“I’m afraid I’m largely responsible for unleashing Charlotte on the world,” Peter went on, once Nate had sufficiently recovered from the shock of his revealed connection to Sophie. “Our family came into money and standing after World War II, but even though I fancy I had a hand in changing our collective fortunes, I never quite lost my love of the grift.”

“No reason you should.” Nate looked up to see that Andrew Carter had joined them, carrying a tray with an assortment of dishes. “Mr. Ford, we’ll eat once this one’s cleaned his plate like a good little boy.”

“He’s Nate, you pompous ass,” Peter scowled, but he didn’t resist as Carter set the tray in place. “He’s sleeping with my granddaughter and I’m trying to make friends with the man. We’re not standing on ceremony, dammit!”

The mouthful of tea Nate had taken just then felt like a burning hot rock as he forced it down. _Okay, then…_

Carter looked suddenly interested. “This _is_ about Charlotte then?” He looked at Nate. “How is she? Such a pretty girl – so smart too!” He glanced at Peter, who was dutifully tucking into a bowl of soup. “Even if _somebody_ wouldn’t let me teach her how to handle C-4 properly.”

“Oh yes – her mum would have loved that. Bad enough her grandda’s teaching her about swindling people, let’s show her how to blow them up too!”

“Okay, wait just a minute,” Nate said – setting his tea down and raising his hand for their attention. “I don’t often say this, but I’m going to need the two of you to rewind this conversation back to the beginning.” He looked at Peter. “You’re Sophie’s grandfather.” He shifted to look at Carter. “And you’re her…what precisely?”

The old man grinned at him again. “Unofficial uncle. Peter and I worked together during the war. Top secret covert ops – very hush, hush. Our team stayed close after the war; I was at Peter’s wedding, knew his children, his…” His voice trailed off unexpectedly and he glanced uneasily at Peter.

“What Andrew is trying very hard not to say there,” Peter said, a large percentage of his earlier humor suddenly gone, “is that once my children started having their own children, they suddenly decided I was a ‘bad influence’.” He snorted again. “I was fun when I was their daddy doing tricks for their friends and letting them get away with whatever they bloody well wanted, but once I was in a position to affect their own precious little darlings…”

“Eat,” Carter encouraged. When Newkirk was doing what he was told, the American continued. “Charlotte was the apple that didn’t fall far from the tree. No matter how much her mother tried to punish her, she’d sneak over to visit Peter every chance she got.”

“She always wanted to hear my stories,” Peter said, thickly. “Over and over – she never got tired of them. And I wasn’t getting a lot of visitors in those days. My wife had died, and my friends were starting to go. Charlotte made me feel alive again – she connected me to the world.”

“When was the last time you talked to her?” Nate asked. He’d been replaying his conversations in his head as the two men talked, trying to figure out if there’d been any hint Sophie had known what he was walking into.

“Six months, give or take,” Peter said. He seemed to know what Nate was thinking, because he added, “She didn’t have a part in me summoning you here. That’s why I asked Andrew for help.”

“Which isn’t to say she wouldn’t figure it out in very short order.”

Startled, Nate turned to see Sophie standing in the doorway, looking reprovingly at her grandfather. “You shouldn’t have done this, old man.” Her voice was soft though, and Nate could see the obvious signs of affection she held for both men. “And you, Uncle – you don’t know enough not to encourage him at this age?”

Carter’s face had lit up on seeing her. “He knows too many of my secrets, child,” he said, getting to his feet and going over to embrace Sophie. “I don’t dare refuse him anything.”

Nate and Sophie’s eyes met as she let go her “uncle”. “I’m sorry,” she said, and the regret in her voice was genuine. “You should be hearing all these things from me.”

“Yes, he should,” Peter agreed, before Nate could say anything. The old man gestured impatiently at her; smiling, Sophie went to his side and kissed him. “But you’re going to fret and worry and overthink things until you miss out on one of the best things life has to offer, aren’t you?” he went on, taking her hand in his. “What was that phrase you used, Andrew?” he asked, glancing past her at his friend. “You know, about the apple not falling far from the tree?”

Carter brought Sophie a chair, and they all resumed their seats. “You shouldn’t have gone behind my back,” Sophie told her grandfather once they were all settled. “It’s my call what to say and when.”

Peter snorted again. “You may have all the time in the world to make up that brilliant mind of yours,” he said, “but I don’t.” He turned to look at Nate. “I’ve had you pretty thoroughly checked out, and while I don’t think you’d make the perfect companion for her, Charlotte clearly has other ideas.” He paused. “You make think me old fashioned Nate, but I still worry about my girl. I want to know the man she’s willing to tie herself to so completely, and I want to make sure she’s not so foolish that she keeps the best, most interesting parts of herself hidden away.”

Sophie’s laugh was shaky. “So…true confessions time is it?” she asked. Nate’s chest tightened, seeing the flash of fear in her eyes. He’d been tempted to come to her rescue, to defend her right to tell him what she wanted in her own time and in her own way. He couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that this was the only way she was going to feel safe letting him all the way in.

“I’m all ears,” he said, spreading his hands and settling back into his chair.

“And if that’s the case,” Carter said, heading for the door to the bedroom, “I’m going to order that lunch we spoke about.”


End file.
